


Watch Over Me

by GallifreyGryffindorGirl



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Regeneration Angst (Doctor Who), Slow Romance, Spoilers, Stalker, obviously, will update as chapters release
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyGryffindorGirl/pseuds/GallifreyGryffindorGirl
Summary: Despite their turbulent relationship since his regeneration, The Doctor becomes Clara's overprotective guard after she is assaulted and injured - whether she likes this new side of him or not! Can they repair their fractured relationship and face a different kind of darkness threatening his companion?*Rewrite of an old story posted to Fanfiction.net on my old account, with an updated story
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 16
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter One

The Doctor walked slowly around the TARDIS controls, each step forward echoing, pausing occasionally to press a button or pull a lever. Once or twice a thought would occur, one worth writing down, and he would leave the controls to climb up the stairs to add it to his blackboard before his mind moved on and he forgot whatever it was. Yet, despite his slow movements and the calm he was trying to outwardly portray (for who’s benefit, he did not know, considering he was alone aside from the TARDIS from whom he could not hide his true feelings) the seven - going on eight - broken sticks of chalk by the board screamed his upset to anyone who might care to look.

He’d done it again, put his foot in his mouth, started an argument with Clara – _again_ – which had only ended when the pair of them had yelled for the other to leave them alone. He’d stalked off into the TARDIS, muttering to himself things he didn’t remember, his anger simmering just under his skin. He wasn’t sure how long ago that had been, he’d randomly flicked buttons and dials until he calmed down enough to allow the TARDIS to cruise. He’d assume a few hours of his own time, at least.

The Doctor sighed and finally came to a stop, leaning against the control panel and folding his arms over his chest. This had become a pattern for them, he knew. They would go on an adventure, he’d do something, they’d argue, they would leave each other angry and upset, and then the Doctor would hop forward in her time stream (just a day or two, enough time for her to calm down) and they would both give an awkward apology for their hurtful words said in anger.

He looked up at what he’d already written on the blackboard, scowling, as another thought popped into his head. He removed a fresh stick of chalk from the case on the console and bounded up the stairs to add the new thought to the blackboard.

When had it become so difficult?

The chalk snapped under his thin fingers, again, and he felt his irritation begin to rise again as he chucked the broken piece still in his hand across the console room in anger, inciting an irritable groan from the TARDIS, which he ignored. His other faces, the last few anyway, had found it so easy. They knew the right things to say, they were good with people, approachable even. Was that why he’d ended up with the old grey face that was always scowling all the time? He wasn’t approachable or good with people this time. Was he supposed to be alone, push away anyone who cared? Clara had loved his last face – she’d never said it, but he knew- and his last face, while still pining for River and the Ponds, had been infatuated with the tiny girl with a funny nose and wide eyes.

He’d told her ‘ _I’m not your boyfriend’_ because he knew he wasn’t the same man she knew after his regeneration. This new face came with a pair of hardened hearts that wouldn’t allow him the same pain or closeness that his previous faces had experienced. Losing Rose, taking Donna’s memories, knowing how River’s story would all those times he met her, losing the Ponds to the Weeping Angels…

And then Trenzalore.

He snapped another piece of chalk, though this time he managed not to throw it in his anger, and grimaced as memories flashed in his mind's eye. Regeneration was a gamble, that was true, but he couldn’t deny his past experiences probably played a part in the hardening of his two hearts this time around.

It didn’t stop him from being irritated with himself every time he said the wrong thing. With most people it didn’t bother him so much – besides, usually, Clara was there to translate his angry words and callous remarks into what he actually meant – and anyway, he didn’t care what strangers thought of him in the first place. But when speaking to Clara herself it was like she suddenly lost that ability to translate for him, and his mouth didn’t seem able to turn all the things he felt into the words he wanted, instead twisting them into something else. Usually, something that started an argument. Something even he could recognise as being hurtful, and yet seemed unable to stop the words tumbling past his lips.

It was _frustrating_.

The TARDIS phone began to ring suddenly, startling him as he raised his hand with yet another fresh piece of chalk to add his thoughts to the chalkboard. Yes, shock and surprise, he’d blame that on the reason his tenth stick of chalk broke.

Bounding down the stairs, half-glad for the unexpected distraction, he answered the phone with a gruff “Hello?”

There was a pause before his caller responded. He could hear muffled voices in the background, though not clearly enough to distinguish what they were saying.

“… Doctor?” Clara’s voice was like music to his ears, though something about it made him take pause and his stomach knot with dread. This was not a tone of voice he had heard from her before, not his Clara. She sounded soft, hesitant… a trace of fear causing a tremor as she said his name.

“Clara?” he stood straighter “what’s wrong?”

“I… Doctor, I need you to come pick me up” she said, not answering his question.

“Where?” he did not waste time asking silly little questions like ‘why?’

Clara took a deep breath on the other end of the line, as though she knew her location would hit him as hard as it did. “Saint Mary’s hospital in London, Saturday, 2:05 am.”

“I’ll be right there,” he told her, that knot of dread he felt becoming just a little bit tighter, hanging up without a goodbye and slamming down a lever on the control panel beside the receiver. He didn’t need to input the coordinates, or the time, he knew. The TARDIS, clever as she was, took the information from the call herself and for once seemed to be cooperating with him as they hurtled back to earth, and made no sound of complaint with the harsh way he pressed her buttons and smashed switches.

He landed outside of the hospital on Saturday at just gone 2:06 am, not once pausing as he strode past medical staff and through the first set of emergency department doors, feeling antsy when he didn’t immediately spot Clara. He kept walking, and no one stopped him, though he half dared them to try. Perhaps it was the way he walked, with purpose, as though he belonged, or maybe it was the scowl he wore that kept his pathway clear.

He turned a corner and finally spotted her, though he had to pause for half a step to be sure the girl sitting on the bed was in fact his Clara before he continued walking. She was pale, paler than he’d ever seen her before, her normally smooth hair a complete mess and matted to the left side of her head with congealed blood, coming from a nasty gash on her head that had been stitched closed. Bloodstained her skin too, flaking where it had obviously run down her face and caught in her eyebrow. She shook visibly, he could see that even from his distance, her expression blank as she clutched the stiff fabric of the blue hospital gown they had dressed her in with a white knuckle grip. She looked… broken. It was a look he never wished to see on her again, and one that sent ice straight into his two hearts.

Before he could get close enough for her to see he was stopped by a policewoman. “I’m sorry sir, but I can't let you pass-“ the woman gave him a cold look, holding up her hands to physically stop him, as he didn’t so much as pause when she first stepped into his path.

“She’s my friend, let me pass!” his voice came out as a snarl, though he’d not quite intended it to, and saw the policewoman steel herself to argue. Brave of her, he’d admit.

“Sir, I-“

“Doctor!” Clara jumped up from the bed, startling both him and the officer, her legs unsteady as she managed to wobble the distance between them before she fell – both the officer and the Doctor reached out to catch her, but he beat the officer. He told her he didn’t do the hugging thing anymore, yet as she crashed against his chest and fisted her hands in his jumper, he couldn’t help wrapping his arms around her back, drawing her in closer to him. The policewoman seemed surprised, but after giving him a final suspicious glance, backed off from the pair. The Doctor watched her go, half daring her to still have the audacity to tell him to leave, and almost missed it when Clara mumbled a quiet “thank you…” into his chest.

“For what?” he frowned, peering down at the top of her head.

“Coming to get me.”

His frown deepened. Had she really thought he wouldn’t come? He didn’t get the chance to ask, nor did he really have the inclination to while she was clearly upset, because the nurse took that moment to come over and have Clara sign her self-discharge papers. The nurse seemed surprised by the Doctors sudden presences, though didn’t say a word against it, and seemed to address them both when she reminded Clara that she was discharging herself against the advice of the hospital. Clara only nodded, clearly exhausted as she held onto his arm until they were close enough for her to sit on the bed again.

After the nurse came the policewoman again, though she only addressed Clara when she informed her they would be in touch about the incident. The entire time, Clara did not let go of the Doctors arm, and he felt no compulsion to remove her grip on him either. After whatever had happened, Clara clearly needed something to keep her anchored, and he was happy to be whatever she needed right now. Besides, he could feel his rage bubbling just under the surface of the calm façade he was trying to show for her, and if she let go of his arm he wasn’t sure he could contain his wrath for long.

Finally, Clara was allowed to leave, her belongings returned to her in a small plastic bag that the Doctor accepted from the nurse before Clara could even lift a finger. She didn’t argue about it though, knowing he was trying to help. He was going to ask her what happened, Clara knew, how could he not? She could practically feel his anger radiating from him, though his expression betrayed nothing of what he might be feeling, and she wondered if anyone else could sense the Time Lords anger or if she just knew him well enough to see through his guise.

As they entered the TARDIS Clara expected him to pull away, shake off her touch as he had done so many times before, to start with the questioned and demand answers from her. She’d steeled herself for the onslaught ever since she called him, actually, and started to loosen her hold on his arm before he could yank it from her grip.

Clara was surprised when the Doctor placed the arm she had released around her shoulders loosely, using it to steer her away from the TARDIS control room and down the left-hand corridor to the infirmary. Wordlessly he indicated she should sit on one of the beds, and for once she didn’t argue, even when he began to fuss over the gash on her head, fingers ghosting over the damaged skin just barely enough for her to register any pain.

Finally, he broke the silence between them, taking a step back. “They did a decent enough job stitching you up,” he said, giving a stern look “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you simply slipped and fell?”

Clara shook her head slowly, her pounding headache only getting worse with the movement.

Releasing a breath through his nose, the Doctor took a seat beside her, his entire frame rigid. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked, voice tight “you don’t have to.”

Sighing, Clara leaned closer, closing the distance between them so she could rest her pounding head on his shoulder – glad he was already stiff so she couldn’t feel it if he reacted all to the unexpected touch. “I didn’t want to go out – “she began, pausing when she realised her voice trembled slightly over the words, clearing her throat in an attempt to speak more clearly “ – I only went because we… because I was upset. I guess the girls from work, Annie and Tina, thought I’d fought with Danny or something, they wanted to get drinks after work and I thought… It’s Friday, why not?”

The Doctor said nothing while Clara let out another shaky sigh, pulling away from him. She began picking the non-existent lint from the stiff hospital gown she still wore, and continued “w-we met up with some blokes Tina knew, her brother and a few of his friends I think… I wasn’t listening. They wanted to go to this new club, but I just… I guess I wasn’t feeling it, I wanted to go home. They offered to have the taxi drop me home first but there wasn’t enough room in the cab for all of us. I said I’d walk, one of the guys was also going home and offered to walk with me – it was only around the corner for me, I figured why not? Safer than walking alone in the dark right?” she snorted, her voice dripping with cynicism.

Still sitting rigidly beside her, the Doctor waited for her to continue. He wanted to reach out, perhaps cover her hand, still picking at threads that didn’t exist, or wrap his arm around her shoulders again and hold her, but he was frozen.

“He…” Clara choked on her words, grimacing as her throat dried up and spitting out the word felt painful. She was aware her eyes burned, her vision blurry, and knew she was close to crying again – but she refused, she refused to shed any more tears, and swallowed deeply, balling her hands into tight fists, digging her nails into the palm of her hands to try and stave off the tears.

Alarmed, the Doctor finally felt his muscles unfreeze, covering both her clenched fists with his hands gently – not wanting to risk her harming herself anymore from the force of her own grip. “You don’t have to say anymore Clara” he spoke softly, rubbing a thumb over her wrist.

Clara didn’t look up, but she did frown, taking in his words and the way he held her hands. Never had the Doctor tried to comfort her like this, at least not since his regeneration. While it warmed her that he was obviously putting aside his dislike for touching to comfort her, the unfamiliarity of it seemed to steel her resolve to get the truth out – just one more time.

Clara looked up at the Doctor, meeting his steel-blue gaze. “I fought-“ she spat out, feeling the anger she’d felt earlier reignite in the pit of her stomach, loaning the strength to sit up a little straighter and she told him “-he thought it would be _easy_ , he told me that! But I fought. He… he wanted to… he was going to…” she struggled with the words. At the time her attacker had been quite vocal about what he wanted from her, wanted to do to her, and though she remembered it all clearly it was like her mouth simply couldn’t repeat the words. She grimaced, and bitterly repeated, “I _fought_.”

She was surprised when the Doctor’s hand raised, gently sweeping a park of her hair back over her shoulder “I would expect nothing less from you, impossible girl” he told her gently, half proudly “but I think that’s enough for tonight. Why don’t you go have a bath? I imagine you’ll have quite the headache from that gash, the hot water should soothe it. Unless there’s some other injury you want to tell me about – like your arm perhaps?”

Clara looked down at the arm he’d nodded towards, the one that had taken the impact of his initial attack, and though she tried to shrug like it was nothing she couldn’t help wince when hot pain radiated from her shoulder. “It’s not broken- they did x-rays.”

“Hmm” was all the Doctor said, getting off the bed and walking a short space away, somehow conveying in the one sound how much faith he had in the hospital’s skills for diagnosing whatever might be wrong. Without another word, he picked up an odd tablet-like device, and pointed it at her as if taking a picture. Clara knew that wasn’t what he was doing, if she had to hazard a guess he was likely scanning her with whatever it was the tablet did. Any other day she might have asked him, might have been genuinely curious. But her returned anger was fading as quickly as it had returned, leaving her feeling drained.

“Not broken” the Doctor confirmed, walking back towards her “but the muscle is damaged, rotator cuff, few weeks to heal with the right care. You’ll need a sling – but we can take care of that after you bath.”

Clara nodded, slipping off the bed and glad when her legs held her weight without needing assistance – though she’d be lying if she didn’t say that her balance felt tenuous as best. Still, she stood straight, and hoped he didn’t notice. “Those the Doctors orders, eh?” she tried to joke, anything to break the tension that threatened to smother her.

The Doctor cocked his head towards her, raising an eyebrow, seeing her strained expression the slightest tremor in her legs poking out from the bottom of the hospital gown. She was putting on a brave face, he knew, so for her sake, he tried to grin – though he was sure the expression probably looked far angrier than he’d meant it, and nodded, giving her a light push towards the doors “go on, off with you, I’ll find a sling and some painkillers and see you after.”

He listened to her light footsteps on the TARDIS’s metal floors until they faded, resisting the urge to follow. He wanted to keep her in his sights, though logically he knew it was extremely unlikely that she’d get hurt any further on his ship. Physical pain was not the only damage to her after this attack though, and he felt helpless to soothe the mental hurt he knew she’d be experiencing. He wasn’t good with emotions anymore that the best of times – but now? His earlier worry about always putting his foot in his mouth returned tenfold while he routed through the infirmary cupboards for painkillers safe for humans and a suitable sling to immobilise her damaged shoulder. Now, more than ever, he couldn’t say the wrong thing. He mustn’t.

Perhaps that fear of saying the wrong thing was why he’d managed to keep a tether on his temper this long, or perhaps it was because she hadn’t given him a name, or even a clue, at the identity of her attacker. He wondered if she knew what he would do, the wrath he would inflict, on the so-called man who had dared to touch his impossible girl.

He returned to the control room with the sling and painkillers to wait for Clara to return from the bathroom, and because he needed to do something. He moved swiftly in a circle around the console, pressed a button here, flicked a lever there, probably with far more care than he had earlier when Clara had first called him. He hesitated at the console… for a brief moment, the thought crossed his mind, to go back… he could prevent this from ever happening.

He felt the TARDIS’s presence in his mind at that moment, only then aware of just how quiet his ship had been since he’d brought Clara back. Normally she was always present, always making some kind of noise, her presence always felt but never noticed until she wanted to be… perhaps she had sensed the tension of the situation and kept quiet, only now returning as she felt the beginnings of a bad idea forming in his mind.

Because, he knew, as tempting as it was to go back and change things… to dissolve his own timeline, or Clara’s, was not a healthy thing to do. The paradox it could create would only be minor, maybe not even enough to attract the attention of the reapers, but he wouldn’t risk messing with either of their complicated timelines. He couldn’t save Clara from this pain… and perhaps, for him, that was the most difficult thing about it.

He paced and growled while he waited for her to return from her bath, at one point going over the rambling thoughts he’d been writing on the blackboard before her call, though he soon dismissed that matter for another day and flipped the board over to its blank side so it couldn’t bother him. He was too angry to dwell on that particular matter anymore tonight.

Truth be told, ‘angry’ wasn’t the right word… no, ‘angry’ didn’t quite describe it right, he was _furious_. He was furious she agreed to go out in the first place, because she was upset over their fight. He was furious her friends hadn’t taken better care of her. He was furious some brainless, dim-witted, human had thought it perfectly acceptable to touch his Clara. To try force himself on her, to harm a single hair on her perfect, impossible, head… but most of all, he was furious that he was helpless to do anything about it. He was the Doctor, and while some may whisper his name in fear he knew there were others who said his name in reverence, regarded him a hero. He helped, that was what he did, who he was… if he could not help her, his impossible girl, then what good was he really?

The Doctor was so preoccupied with these thoughts he didn’t notice Clara come back from the bathroom, dressed in a loose scoop neck pyjama shirt and loose comfortable grey pants that the TARDIS had provided after her bath. She was glad, finding her shoulder painful to move and stiff when she did, she was pretty sure that if the ship had provided anything but the loose clothes she may have had to ask for help getting dressed again. She doubted the Doctor would be as willing to help with that as he seemed to be with everything else she had asked of him tonight.

The Doctor noticed when he heard a creak as she sat down in the leather chair on the balcony, the steely expression on his face melting away to something softer, but not before she’d glimpsed that anger. He said nothing though, picking some items off the console and joining her on the balcony.

“Here, take two of these,” he said, offering her a small white bottle. Twisting off the top and peering inside she saw a bunch of small gel-like blue tablets and regarded him momentarily with a raised eyebrow. He rolled his eyes and was about to assure her that yes, he checked they were safe for humans, but didn’t need to when she shook the bottle and popped two in her mouth, swallowing without asking for water. He tried not to look a little pleased with this, instead showing her the black foam sling he had found and asking silently if he could fit it for her. Clara nodded once, and he wasted no time positioning her arm for her against her chest, adjusting the Velcro straps until it was held there comfortably. While he was adjusting the strap by her neck he glanced down at the injured shoulder, able to see skin where the low scooped neck of the shirt and fallen more on that side, he swore he could see the black and blue bruises there darkening before his eyes by the second – and with it, his mood.

Perhaps Clara sensed this, because she asked him suddenly “Doctor, are you alright?”

He pulled back from her completely so he could look at her face “of course I’m alright, you’re the one we should be worried about.”

“You just… you looked a little…” he hesitated, biting the tip of her tongue.

“Yes?” he waited, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“… you look angry.”

“Ah” he would have to work on his poker face. How had his previous face, the foppish man child that he had been, been so good at lying? It seemed whatever skill he’d had at deceiving his companions had come and gone with the regeneration as well, and this face was left wearing his hearts upon his sleeve.

Clara looked away from him, chewing on her lip and shifting in her seat, and he realised he’d taken too long to form an actual response.

“Clara,” he said her name firmly, drawing her wide eyes back up to his “I am angry… but not at you. Understand?”

She nodded slowly, twice, and looked away again as she yawned.

“I’m going to take you home…” he suddenly bounded off down the stairs, taking them two at a time, tapping coordinated into the console screen and flicking buttons for the third time that night “you need to rest. The same day, you haven’t missed a thing. I assume your work, your family, maybe even the small humans may notice if it gets around you were all bruised up and suddenly show up completely healed… You are to stay home and rest though. As you said, Doctors orders.”

Clara almost smiled, he saw the twitch of her lips, and he considered that a win for them over whichever bastard had done this to her. “Believe me, I can't think of anything else I’d want to do right now… not sure sleep is going to come easy-“

She had barely finished the sentence before he’d come leaping back up the stairs, long legs covering twice the distance she’d be able to do with the same move herself, and before she could even really register his approach he had placed his fingers gently on her temples – and she slumped, passing out in the leather chair like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

The Doctor made sure she didn’t slip out of the chair before he backed off a few steps, releasing a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as he listened to the TARDIS engines groan. He probably should have asked before he did that, and briefly, he wondered if Clara would be angry with him when she woke, but at the moment he couldn’t really bring himself to care… which was ironic, he thought, considering his earlier thoughts that night had been about how his lack of care for her feelings was causing them nothing but trouble.

Still, when she had mentioned difficulty sleeping, he’d leapt at the one chance he had to really help her after her ordeal tonight – even going as far as the plant the beginnings of sweet dreams in her mind when he’d put her to sleep. That monster would not touch his Clara in her dreams, oh no, he made sure of that. It was the least he could do.

And when he found out who this monster was - because he _would_ find out who did this, there was no question of ‘ _if’_ in his mind, only ‘ _when_ ’ - he was going to teach the miserable cretin exactly what happens when you mess with a much bigger monster.


	2. Chapter Two

Clara looked up from the essay she was supposed to be marking at her desk when she heard a snicker in what had been her perfectly quiet classroom, glancing suspiciously towards the area the sound had come from. She frowned when, as soon as she looked up, her classroom of thirty plus students – who were supposed to be quietly working on a mock exam – hastily (and not at all obviously) ducked their heads back down in an attempt to hide their amused grins.

“I feel a B+ is rather generous, I’d have given a C, maybe a low B if I was feeling generous…”

Clara jumped and pursed her lips to contain the yelp she’d almost let loose when the Doctor spoke suddenly from directly behind her, her chair pushing back against the Timelord at her jerky movement and causing him to grunt at the force of it, though he didn’t move back. At her reaction the class seemed to lose any pretence they’d had about focusing on their mock exams, laughing loudly at the scene as it played before them.

Really, Clara knew she shouldn’t have been altogether that surprised by the Doctor’s sudden appearance. A week had passed since her attack, and while she noticed a change in behaviour from nearly everyone around her (some of it welcomed - like how her students behaved much better for her, even if it was out of sympathy – and some of it irritating, like the few people who had started treating her as a fragile invalid incapable of doing anything for herself) it was the Doctor’s behaviour that had surprised her most.

To say his attitude since the regeneration had been… difficult, would be an understatement. At times he was downright unpleasant, simple conversation became like trying to walk through a maze of cacti, too close and you’d get hurt. He was good at keeping everyone at an arm’s length. Honestly, the change in him had not been easy for her, or – she suspected – for him either. He wouldn’t touch her, acting as though he had been burned when he did, and nine times out of ten the next words to fall from his mouth would be scathing, cutting just deep enough to hurt where it mattered. Their fights where more frequent than the smiles – a lasting twist of the knife in her heart that he was not the same man anymore. And… she understood, she did. She remembered all his faces, after all, memories of echoes upon echoes of herself scattered among his time stream, not all of them clear - but all of them sharing the same deep affection for the Doctor. 

Yet, despite his colder attitude, when she was in the hospital she hadn’t hesitated to call him. She could have called her dad, or even Danny, but the thought to call them hadn’t even occurred to her. In her time of need, she’d called the Doctor, and he hadn’t hesitated to come, offering her the kind of quiet comfort and touch she’d missed from his previous face. Even now, a week later, she noticed his eyes linger on her a little longer than normal, his hand coming more often to guide her by resting gently on the small of her back, or steering her direction with a gentle touch to her elbow. Sure, it wasn’t the spontaneous hugs and grabbing that his bow-tie wearing self would have showered her with, but it was more than he’d ever offered her before, and in a way, she appreciated the small gestures more than she would have the hugs.

But the biggest change in his behaviour was this – gone where his weekly Wednesday visits. No, now the Doctor would appear in her flat at 8:15 on a morning, just in time to walk her to Coal Hill (he usually complained about the walk, trying every day to convince her to take the TARDIS, but she enjoyed the walk so he’d only won that argument once when a thunderstorm had struck over London), then on an afternoon, he’d arrive at precisely 15:15, just before the end of the school day. He had never asked her if he could do this, change their agreed ‘Wednesday only’ arrangement, but then again Clara hadn’t exactly made any comment about him accompanying her on her commute. Honestly, she was glad for his company… the idea of walking alone had her stomach twisting unpleasantly, and she suspected that it helped him deal with the aftermath of the attack as well.

The morning after the attack Clara had woken up in her own bed, though she knew that’s not where she had fallen asleep, and she knew that the Doctor had done something… something to make her sleep better. She appreciated it – even more so when she’d managed to drag herself out of bed and found the alien in her kitchen making tea, which she really hadn’t expected. He had been wary of her, probably expected her to be upset with whatever he had done, and maybe under any other circumstance, she might have been. But she had accepted the cup of tea he offered her in one of her own 'best teacher’ mugs and said nothing about it, watching a brief look of relief pass over his expression before he launched into an animated explanation of the tea he’d given her – because of course, it couldn’t just be normal human tea, no, it was alien tea (designed to soothe, or so he claimed) that he’d popped off to get while she was asleep. She’d let him talk, sipping the tea, and rolled her eyes because this felt… normal. Normal was what she needed right then, she wasn’t sure if it was the tea or the Doctor’s voice that soothed her more – but she could see it had the same effect on him. His eyes lightened, the tension in his posture loosening, and she realised just how much the attack on herself had affected him as well.

So, if escorting her to and from work helped him as much as it helped her, then why argue about it? Besides, Clara was certain he’d not give her a choice in the matter if she did mention it. He wasn’t happy she insisted on going to work when she was still wearing her arm in the sling, and her face still mottled with bruises around the stitched up cut. He’d tried to insist she rest, her father and Danny had tried to insist she rest, hell even the school had tried to force her to take some personal time off. But she _couldn’t_. Clara knew if she didn’t have something to do, something to occupy her mind, then she’d begin to dwell on what had happened. She’d much rather be guiding her students through their mock exams and grading essays than that – thank you very much.

Glancing up at the Doctor over her shoulder, Clara raised an eyebrow “I think a B is rather reasonable, especially when they’ve read the book and you have not.”

“I have read the book” the Doctor sniffed.

“This morning you told me you hadn’t read Jane Eyre, called it ‘romantic tosh’ if I remember.” Clara was aware her students were no longer paying any attention to their mock, hearing a few giggles as they watched the exchange, probably glad for a distraction from schoolwork “You then said you’d not waste your time on it, and when I asked you to leave me alone so I could read it you told me not to let it turn my brains to mush.” 

The Doctor gave a half shrug, moving from behind her so he could lean against the side of her desk as he cocked his head and said “I was half right, had more time today than I expected, and I wanted to see what it was that had you so distracted. Romantic tosh indeed, but not without a few decent comments on the social norms of the time, I’ll admit. Still capable of turning your brains to mush – if I ever meet Bronte I’ll ask why she insisted on writing five hundred pages of sentimental drivel, and if it was only with the intention of boring schoolchildren for decades to come.”

Someone at the back of the class whooped, others letting out loud cries of agreement and dramatic anguish that was eventually quelled by the stern look Clara gave them.

“You can pack away, the bell rings in five minutes,” Clara told the class once she had their attention again, and in the flurry of activity and noise that followed her permission she turned back to the Doctor and hissed “no ‘I’m secretly a time traveller’ slip up’s in front of the kids, please, Doctor. I’d rather not have to deal with any parents if they take that information home – the school will add ‘crazy’ to the list of reasons to force me into taking time off.”

“Unlikely, while kids are more likely to believe it, parents would only dismiss it as them making things up I’m sure – it’s that remarkable perception filter you humans have” he smirked.

“I’d still rather not..” Clara sighed deeply, turning back to the essays on her desk – was there even any point arguing with him?

The Doctor, for whatever skills he knew he lacked this face around, sensed a switch in Clara’s mood and wisely decided to stay quiet – choosing instead to answer the random questions her students suddenly aimed at him. Of course, the kids in her classes had been very curious by his random and unexplained appearances in her classroom over the past week, some assuming he was some older relative of hers, and questions where quickly answered with a quick flash of the psychic paper – suddenly he had credentials as a classroom inspector, though everyone knew Clara was the reason he was there. No one argued, faculty seemed relived Clara had someone to watch over her, and the students enjoyed picking his brains since apparently, in their words, he was ‘weird’.

The school bell rang and the call waited on the edge of their seats for Clara’s nod of approval before they scampered away, already excited and shouting as they piled out into the crowded corridor. Clara stayed at her desk, however, flicking through the essays and making sure she had graded them all – once or twice papers could stick together and she’d hate to miss any – her own work not finishing at the bell like that of her students. The Doctor was used to her routine by now, moving around the now empty classroom as though the displays on the walls had caught his attention, but his eyes stayed on the young teacher, tracking her movements; the way her fingers twitched on her sling bound arm, noting the way her skin had slowly begun to knit back together under the stitches to her head and the dark bruises to her skin where beginning to fade oh so slowly… Most of all, he noticed the way she froze when her classroom door was unexpectedly thrown open.

“Clara, I was-“ Danny Pink walked into the classroom and faltered ever so slightly when his eyes landed on the Doctor standing a few meters away from Clara’s desk “-Oh… Doctor.”

The Doctor almost grimaced at the sight of the young soldier-turned-teacher, but more out of the fact he’d caused Clara to react – which in turn had caused him to tense, half expecting some kind of danger – though Danny didn’t seem to notice this, turning back to Clara with a rather put-out expression on his face.

Clara looked back at the pile of essays on her desk, shuffling them so she had something to do with her hands as she greeted him in a clipped tone, “what do you want Danny?”

“I…” Danny hesitated at her tone, glancing at the Doctor once – though if he was searching for help or asking for privacy, the Doctor didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to offer either, too surprised himself with Clara’s tone – “I, uhm, look… Clara, I just wanted to apologise for earlier…”

Clara paused her shuffling to glance at him “which part are you sorry about?”

“All of it, of course!” Danny looked flustered “I was just… it's been hard lately, for everyone, for you especially… I didn’t think…”

“No, you didn’t…” Clara muttered, sounding suddenly tired, the quiet words having a physical effect on Danny as he looked suddenly crestfallen. He didn’t get a moment to say anything though, before Clara added louder “I was serious though… when I asked for some space. I just… I need space.”

Danny opened his mouth, then shut it again, his sullen expression twisting into something else as he glanced between Clara and the Doctor – whatever it was he wanted to say, however, he must have thought better on it, because he gave a simple sharp nod and left the classroom again without question.

“What happened with P.E?” The Doctor asked as soon as he could no longer hear footsteps in the hallway.

Clara gave him a fleeting glance “we had a disagreement, lets just leave it at that.”

“Sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Since when have you wanted to talk about my relationship with Danny – or anyone else for that matter?”

“Since you had a cryptic conversation right in front of me” he retorted, stepping up to her desk.

“Ah” Clara leaned back in her chair and finally looked up at him, looking mildly amused “I forgot the great Doctor hates it when he _doesn’t_ know something, doesn’t he?”

He smirked down at her, placing both hands on her desk so he could lean over her ever so slightly “if I plead guilty, will you tell me what’s going on? Why would P.E need to apologise? Do I need to have a talk with him?”

Clara snorted “what would you even do if you 'had a talk’ with him? Threaten him with your screwdriver?”

“I would never be so crude” he straightened, smoothing down the front of his jacket “as far as threats go, words are far more powerful. He knows what I am… he doesn’t know what I can do.”

Clara gave a slight chuckle at that, conceding his point, though he looked perhaps a little too pleased as he gave her a deliberately sinister grin. All too soon however her smile faded as an expectant look appeared on his face, and she knew he wouldn’t let this go.

Heaving a sigh she told him “I told you on… that night I was out with some girls with work, remember?”

He nodded slowly. It had taken more self-control that he cared to admit not to find these so-called friends of hers and demand answers for why they didn’t watch out for her better that night.

She chewed her lip “well… one of the girls, she’s friends with… him. She’s been pretty defensive, claiming he would never do something like that, that I led him on, that kind of thing. It’s become a big thing to gossip about among the staff here… don’t get me wrong, most of them are on my side, but it’s made work a bit… uncomfortable.”

The Doctor clenched his jaw and asked “and how does P.E feel?”

“He believes me!” she said, a note of defensiveness in her tone “that wasn’t what we argued about. We argued because… he touched me. I mean, it’s silly, it was completely innocent… but I hated it. I told him not to touch me, I guess he got a bit upset about it so we had a small argument, nothing too big – but then I saw him getting lunch with those girls and I guess I just… I don’t know, I got really angry, we argued again and I told him I wanted some space…”

The Doctor had turned away while she was speaking, pretending to be interested in a few of her classes recent essays tacked to the wall in some kind of display, so she could not see the anger in his eyes as he asked lightly “remember when I said I don’t really like P.E?”

Clara sniggered “don’t recall you saying it exactly, but you made your feeling known,” she told him, finally standing from her desk as she filed the graded essays in her desk drawer and began retrieving the mock exams from her student's desks. The Doctor helped when he noticed what she was doing, until they had them all collected and piled neatly on her desk for tomorrow.

He waited patiently while she put on her coat one-handed, knowing better than to help if she did not ask – while even he knew it would be polite to ask, he also knew Clara and the stubborn streak that ran through her, she was fiercely independent by nature and he knew just how much she hated every helpless second her arm was bound by that sling.

“Besides” Clara continued once she’d gotten her coat on, leading the Doctor out of her classroom “he’s not exactly high in my good books right now anyway.”

They walked through the empty school together in companionable silence, no words needed to fill it in, and out of the front doors. Clara was glad the walk from the school to her flat wasn’t far, winter darkness had settled over London not long after her class had left, and the whistling of the frozen wind made her uncertain if she would have been able to hear it if anyone managed to sneak up on her on the nearly-empty streets once they got into the bare residential area where she lived. The Doctor beside her didn’t appear affected by the bitter wind, the only extra layer she’d seen him don besides his hoodie and magicians coat where a pair of black knit gloves. She couldn’t help but think to herself that if she had ever needed more proof that he wasn’t human, this was it.

Even with the Doctor walking in step beside her, Clara couldn’t help turning her head, trying to keep an eye on her surroundings.

The Doctor noticed. As she glanced around she caught his eye, but rather than explain herself, she said the last thing he expected. “You know… it _is_ Wednesday.”

“I know what day of the week it is Clara.”

“Sooo?”

“No.”

“What?” she was genuinely surprised “why not?”

“Because I’m not particularly fond of the idea of taking you someplace while your head is all banged up and one of your arms is out of commission,” he told her bluntly.

“We could go somewhere relaxing!”

The Doctor snorted “ _relaxing_? I don’t know if you have ever noticed, but trouble seems to follow wherever I go. I could almost guarantee that anywhere ‘relaxing’, as you say, would not stay that way for long.”

“You _do_ have terrible luck” she agreed, grinning when he gave her a dry look “but that’s what makes it so fun!”

“You are impossible” he rolled his eyes, but didn’t sound like he disagreed.

Clara rolled her eyes right back at him, smirking “Isn’t that why you call me your _impossible girl_?”

The Doctor grinned, despite himself, at that and sighed. They arrived at her apartment building and he held open the door for her, following close behind as she started up the stairs. “If you're insisting, we can take a short – and I mean short – trip to Victorian London. I’m not going to lie, I did receive a message on the psychic paper this morning from Vastra. Something about a vanishing train.”

“Sounds interesting” Clara smiled, glancing up at him as they finally reached her floor. The Doctor saw a sparkle in her wide eyes, one he hadn’t realised until that very moment had been missing over the last week. “How will we hide my sling though? Will we need to transfer my nice comfy one for a dirty fabric one?”

“I’m afraid you will my dear” he nodded, unlocking her door with a buzz of his sonic screwdriver rather than waiting for her to find the key, a spring in his step as he lead the way to the TARDIS waiting in her sitting room. Up until now, he had been strangely content to slow himself down, to match her human pace, despite his usual disdain for how slow time moved on earth… he supposed it was because he’d made himself feel useful, guarding Clara as though she were the crown jewels. “Though I doubt the TARDIS would provide you with anything that was actually dirty, so a ‘clean’ fabric one would be more accurate.”

He paused at the doors of the TARDIS, realising Clara hadn’t followed him – rather she was still standing at her own doorway, locking up behind them, and giving him a puzzled look “’ _my dear’_?” she quoted, sounding amused.

The Doctor frowned, partially because he hadn’t even realised he’d said the term of endearment while they were speaking, but mostly he was perplexed why she had focused on it. “Would you prefer I use some other term? _Chouchou_ , perhaps?” he asked in a bored tone, hoping she listened to that rather than the warm blush he could feel spreading across his face for some reason. Why had he called her that? It had slipped off his tongue so easy, and why was she asking? Maybe she didn’t want him to call her by any nicknames?

Clara paused for a moment as she passed by him in the TARDIS doors, still looking puzzled “isn’t _Chou_ French for Cabbage?” she asked, wrinkling her nose “did you just call me cabbage-cabbage?”

“Well, you do share a few striking similarities to a cabbage” he bounded past her to the main console, not bothering to correct her rudimentary translation and leaping on the opportunity she’d inadvertently given him “your both small… round bits…”

“Excuse me, ‘round bits’?” Clara exclaimed.

The Doctor had to glance around to make sure her indignant tone was in jest – and he assumed from the grin on her face that it was – before he returned the focus of his attention to the console screen, tapping in the information given to him by Madame Vastra’s message. “Yes, you’re all round eyes at the best of times!”

“Hmm” Clara gave him a suspicious look over her shoulder, heading further into the bowls of the TARDIS as the engines of the ship began to groan, the noise alone still enough to make her giddy “as long as that’s all you meant by ‘round bits’ Doctor.”

“What else could I possibly mean?”

Clara didn’t actually answer him, laughing as she disappeared down the corridor, no doubt heading to the wardrobe to find something more era-acceptable to wear.

**~ O ~**

The mystery of the vanishing train was over by the time the Doctor landed them in Madame Vastra’s courtyard, and Clara wasn’t entirely certain if the Doctor had timed it just so on purpose to avoid taking her on any kind of adventure.

Not that the trip was entirely a disappointment to her – only once she was alone in the TARDIS wardrobe did she realise the weight that had been lifted from her shoulders. The moment she stepped onto the ship her mood had improved drastically, but it was only when she had a second alone to her thoughts that she realised why. On the ship, no one could touch her. Or rather, it wasn’t that ‘no one’ could touch her – it was that _he_ couldn’t. _He_ couldn’t follow her through time and space, and _he_ couldn’t be lurking in the shadows of nineteenth-century London.

This was likely why she wasn’t too upset when they arrived to find they had missed the adventure they’d originally intended, and was quite happy to listen to Strax’s overenthusiastic retelling – right after sharing her own story after their friends had asked why she was so banged up herself. She glossed over the details of her attack, not wishing to relive it again, before insisting Strax tell her again the vanishing train while she helped Jenny peel potatoes for dinner, Jenny quietly correcting Strax’s story every time he exaggerated something.

Madame Vastra and the Doctor had excused themselves shortly to the sunroom, hardly able to see the walls of the room among the potted foliage, the Doctor sat back in one of the wicker chairs and wrinkled his nose as Vastra poured herself a glass of thick red liquid he knew from scent was not wine. The lizard lady from the dawn of time noted his look, and seemed amused.

“So Doctor, what _exactly_ happened to poor Clara’s arm and head?” she asked.

“Precisely what she said” he responded, his jaw tightening “she was attacked.”

“But by _who_ or _what_ , she neglected to mention…”

The Doctor could see what Vastra was alluding to, and put her straight on the matter swiftly. “It was no more sinister a creature than you are already familiar with – humans. She knows who, but she will not give me a name, and he has been arrested. No doubt she thinks I might take matters into my own hands if she did.”

“Are you denying you would?” she arched an eyebrow.

The Doctor said nothing, suddenly interested in the leaf of the plant beside him that kept falling into his field of view. Wisely Madame Vastra said nothing on this, truthfully she hadn’t even needed to ask the question, she’d already known the answer.

“Despite what they lack, some humans make startlingly good predators – perhaps the worst part is they choose to prey on each other,” she said instead, swirling her glass thoughtfully before taking a sip, noting the irony as she did.

The Doctor grunted in disgust “If I had to choose a predator I would choose one such as yourself, my friend, you hunt for food. Clara’s attack… was sexual in nature.”

Vastra had suspected as much, but to hear it confirmed made her blood burn, and though he was trying to hide it she could understand the Doctors rage. “Did he-?”

“-No” the Doctor answered before she could finish her question. “No. He didn’t get what he wanted… Clara fought him, apparently, he didn’t expect that, she told me that much at least.”

“Good” Vastra nodded, noting the pride in the time lords voice as he told her how Clara had fought against her attacker, and feeling something akin to it welling in herself as well on behalf of the short brunette. She considered the man opposite her for a moment longer, observing his averted gaze and pulse ticking in his cheek. “I wondered, Doctor, how are you coping with this attack on your companion? I know, you are quite used to them being in danger on your adventures, in danger with you, but a situation out of your control that you and unfamiliar with… how are you handling it Doctor?”

“ _Me_?” the Doctors voice was stark, lifting his eyes to Vastra’s in surprise “I was not the one who was attacked.”

“No” Vastra agreed, giving a wry smile “but you get attacked frequently Doctor, of course not in quite the same way, but what I mean is you would be used to getting attacked Doctor. It’s just another part of your life. Miss Clara was attacked off your ship and outside of your – what do you call it? Ah, ‘ _duty of care’_? Yet she is downstairs laughing, looking happy as can be, while you – forgive me for saying – look a moment away from detonating.”

The Doctor stood abruptly, giving a harsh laugh “ _happy_?” he asked, ignoring Vastra’s question “Ha! My Clara is not… this is the first time in a week I have seen her laugh properly. Seen the sparkle return to her eyes, the first time she isn’t looking over her shoulder for the big bad bogeyman!” he ranted, pacing the limited space in the room that wasn’t occupied with plant pots “she isn’t herself. She’s… quieter. Doesn’t argue. Ah, just today she fought with her _boyfriend_ because he _touched_ her – she doesn’t _want_ to be touched now. _He_ got upset with _her_ … as if the psychological damage of what she’s experienced isn’t enough…”

“It’s to be expected after an attack of that nature” Vastra nodded.

“ _I_ know that” the Doctor growled, “apparently her _boyfriend_ does not.”

Madame Vastra tilted her head in the Doctor’s direction, “you don’t like that word, ‘ _boyfriend_ ’ do you? Or could it be jealousy that makes you twist the word with venom dear Doctor?”

He stopped pacing abruptly, his jacket flaring just slightly enough to flash the red inline and levelled a glare at the reptilian woman staring back at him “you overstep yourself, Madame. Besides, what would I have to be jealous of?”

But Vastra was not quelled by his reprimand, tilting her chin up as she said “perhaps it is not you who is jealous then Doctor.”

He frowned. “I’m not.”

“As you said… but perhaps Miss Clara’s boyfriend has noticed, as I have, that she gave no argument or indicator that she was uncomfortable with _your_ touch over his.”

Vastra watched the Doctor as he processed her words, she knew he was likely trying to remember if at any point since her attack Miss Clara had given any indication that she disliked his touch. She wouldn’t have been surprised to find the Doctor hadn’t even noticed her acceptance, and really she herself hadn’t realised the significance of it when she had seen the Doctor guide his companion earlier with a hand placed gently on her back, or when he had gently smoothed his hand down her shoulder as she explained the cause of her injuries. Innocent touches, and yet if what he said was true and she would not let her boyfriend touch her, perhaps that innocence was lost somewhat.

After a few minutes of scowling at nothing in particular as he tried to think of something to say, the Doctor eventually growled out “we’re friends… she probably views me as ‘safe’. It means nothing.”

“Possibly” Vastra sipped from her glass again, a coy smile on her lips that made the Doctor turn his scowl in her direction – before he could say anything more, however, they were interrupted when Strax barged in.

“Madame” he addressed “there is a coach outside requesting to speak with you urgently. Shall I allow them in, or shall I eradicate the intruders?”

“Allow them in Strax – no doubt a new case” she replied, giving a nod of thanks as Jenny and Clara entered the room carrying a tray of tea – Clara carrying a small tray of scones in her one good hand. “Will you and Miss Clara be staying then Doctor?”

The Doctor half wanted to say no – that he should take Clara back to twenty-first-century London, make sure she attended her next physiotherapy session for her shoulder, and rest. After all, sooner she rested, sooner she healed, and he may feel better about taking her someplace they might run into danger – theoretically, anyway. But when he caught her eye, seeing the glint of excitement there, the upward curl of her lips – it was the expression that usually only appeared when they grinned at each other over the console of the TARDIS, on their way to some new planet, some new adventure. The Doctor couldn’t stop the smirk he felt pulling on his own lips in response.

“Very well,” he told Madame Vastra, standing behind her highbacked wicker chair as they heard Strax ask (or rather demand on the threat of death) for the new client's coat “lets at least see if it’s interesting.”

No sooner had the words left his lips that a familiar voice echoed down the hall, and he felt his eyebrows rise.

 _Interesting indeed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was... actually super difficult to re-write from the original 2014 version. Partially it's because I loathe my bad writing of the original, but the other part is because in the original I didn't do a great job at conveying what I wanted to be said. This is probably easier explained by saying that I have suffered an assault similar to the one I'm writing in this story - back in 2014 it had only just happened, and while I wrote this story to kind of vent about it, I wasn't really ready at all to face it. The difference in 2021 is that I've come to terms with it, and I'm trying to guide the characters' emotions as best I can from my experience. 
> 
> And to anyone who did read the 2014 edition (for which i apologise, my writing was not great, if your new to this story i don't recommend unless you really want spoilers) you'll notice a change with the end of this chapter - because the next chapter is completely new and unfeatured in the 2014 edition! Who's voice has the Doctor recognised? Well hopefully you'll find out soon (hopefully the next chapter will be out at the weekend!)


	3. Chapter Three

The Doctor had mixed feelings about the man who entered Madame Vastra’s sunroom, followed closely by Strax – who appeared to be both bewildered and infuriated by whatever this stranger had said to him in the hallway if his scowl and open mouth was anything to go by. The Sontaran waved wordlessly at the client, then exited the room sharply, grumbling something inaudible.

In her seat beside him, Madame Vastra had once again donned her black veil so as to hide her lizard-like appearance from the new client. The Doctor had half a mind to let her know there was no need but stopped himself. Wasn’t he doing the same thing after all? He had a new face, yet he stood with his back half-turned away from their new guest, hiding half his appearance in the shadow provided by Vastra’s overgrown houseplants. Why he felt the need to lurk he wasn’t sure, but then that was another thing that had changed with this face was it not? Or perhaps it had started after his last face had lost the Ponds… when he started to wish his name was not so well known across the universe.

Jenny had left the room before their visitor had entered the room, but Clara had stayed, almost completely unseen from where she stood near a corner of the room behind a prehistoric-looking plant with leaves bigger than her head – the dark emerald dress she’d gotten from the TARDIS wardrobe blending in all too well with their surroundings. She’d heard the clients voice from in the hallway, talking loudly to Strax about something she couldn’t quite make out, and had an unsettling sense of de-Ja-Vu – the unshakeable feeling that she knew that voice – but it wasn’t until she got a glimpse of his face that she realised, memories rushing back. Memories of an echo, not herself, of course. She felt her mouth fall open in as she raised her eyebrows, catching the Doctors eye only to see him briefly press a finger to his lips.

Madame Vastra indicated with a hand that her new client should take the seat opposite her, and perhaps the non-verbal instruction would have worked on anyone else, instead, her new client ignored the direction and took her outstretched hand in his own, bending swiftly to press a kiss to its gloved back.

“Ah, the Great Veiled Detective, just who I wanted to meet – got a problem Scotland Yard can’t fix, and you came highly recommended” he grinned, brash American accent seeming very out of place “Captain Jack Harkness, a pleasure to meet you.”

If Vastra was affected at all by Jack’s natural charm she didn’t show it. “Well, Captain, take a seat and explain your problem. I hope you don’t mind if my associates sit in on this meeting?”

Jack glanced up, as if only just now realising there was anyone else in the room. Then again, it wouldn’t be entirely implausible to think he’d simply missed them among the plants. His smile hesitated for a second, more than likely working out the risk, but in the end, shrugged. “I work well with group projects ma’am, more than enough Jack to go around” he winked to Vastra’s veiled face, and the Doctor had to resist the urge to roll his eyes – particularly when he saw Clara smirk.

“Perhaps you should begin explaining this ‘problem’ of yours that Scotland Yard cannot fix” Vastra suggested, though her tone made it more of a command than a suggestion.

This time Jack listened, sitting in the seat opposite Vastra that the Doctor had occupied only a short time before, the air of manic energy he had brought into the room fading as his expression turned less friendly and playful to something more serious. “I’ll get right to the point ma’am – I know you’ve dealt with some pretty weird and wonderful mysteries, the kind ordinary people wouldn’t think possible, and honestly right now that’s the kind of help I could do with. I’m tracking some people here in London, not the most pleasant bunch, that have come into possession of an item that could become a very, very, powerful weapon in the wrong hands.”

“Sounds intriguing Captain,” Vastra said, though her tone hadn’t changed at all, and she neither denied nor confirmed his earlier claims “go on.”

“Yes, well, the problem is… I lost their trail. Kind of got a bit lost, it’s a long story, but I know they’re in London, I just need help tracking them down again.”

“How?”

“How what?”

Vastra’s head tilted ever so slightly under the veil, “how do you know this person – or persons – you are tracking are in London still?”

“Because this morning Scotland Yard dealt with the effects of this stolen technology” Jack’s face twisted like he’d eaten something sour.

“Ah, and if you could possibly explain, what does this weapon do?”

Jack clicked his tongue and thought for a second, clearly deciding how much he should reveal “the abridged version is that it creates, essentially, a kind of… super soldier.”

“Is it a drug?”

“…It could be classified as such, I suppose,” Jack thought about it “the danger lies in the fact that it doesn’t need to be digested or injected to have an effect, currently the weapon is contained, they stole three vials as far as I am aware. Once the containers are opened however it will affect the nearest living thing – since Scotland Yard dealt with one such individual this morning, and I’ve not heard of any other incidents in the city, I think it’s safe to say they’re now down to only two canisters.”

The Doctor listened to this from behind Vastra’s seat remaining still enough so as not to attract any attention from Jack or Vastra themselves, wondering to himself just what Jack had gotten up to since he had last seen him. That would have been what… oh, his tenth face? Just how many years, centuries, were between then and now? How many had it been for Jack?

While the Doctor had been wondering, Jack and Vastra had continued talking, he’d missed exactly what was being said but Jack was now showing Vastra a small piece of technology – looking so out of place and very alien in the room heavily decorated with Victorian-era furniture.

Vastra turned her head slightly to find Clara in the shadows of the overlarge plant “Miss Clara, could you please fetch Strax? I think we could use him for this.”

Clara was a little surprised to be asked, her eyebrows raising in response, but she nodded and moved out of her unintentional hiding spot to go and find the Sontaran. She supposed Vastra had only asked her out of politeness not to shout in front of her new client, that and she imagined it was more useful for the Doctor to remain in the room while she left – if Jack was to give them any more information, the Doctor was more likely than her to pick up on any possible clue. On the other hand, she could think of a fair few occasions when the Doctor had missed the obvious, relying on his companions, but it wasn’t the time for that argument.

Jacks eyes fell on her as she moved, she wondered if he’d ever seen her hidden behind the plant as she was, and he frowned – looking momentarily puzzled before he jumped up suddenly, the biggest grin on his face and his arms spread open in welcome. “Is that- Calla Woards, my stars, come here give ol’ Jackie a hug!”

“Uh-“ Clara had barely a moment to pause in her steps, taken aback by his sudden cry and movement before Jack started walking towards her, clearly intent on hugging if his open arms were any clue. The room suddenly felt very small, the air heavy, her heart beginning to pound loud enough she was sure someone would comment on it as she took two steps backwards to try and avoid Jack's arms.

The Doctor moved, intending to get between Jack and Clara – startled himself with Jacks sudden greeting, but it didn’t take a genius to guess that at some point in his long life Jack had probably come across one of Clara’s echos and recognised her. He wondered briefly if Clara had made that connection too, but the thought left his mind as quickly as it entered when he saw her stepping backwards, eyes wide. He moved to intercept without thinking – though before he could take more than half a step, not completely sure Clara would appreciate his intervention, Jack dropped his arms and the threat of him touching her appeared to pass.

“What, no hug?” Jack pouted, but didn’t actually sound disappointed “I know it’s been a few years but... I mean, last time I saw you, god… I thought you were _dead,_ Calla.”

Clara grimaced and shut her eyes as unpleasant, unbidden, memories surfaced. That was the thing about remembering her echo’s memories, when a particularly strong reminder surfaced, she could remember everything of that echo’s life – and eventual death, which naturally her human brain didn’t take well. The first time it happened was in Victorian London, it as a few months after she had jumped into the Doctors time stream and her mind had been fragile for a while, so it hadn’t taken long before her memories of her barmaid/governess echo had made themselves known when snow had begun to fall. It had taken the combined medical knowledge of Strax, and the Doctor, to convince her brain she wasn’t actually dead. When she finally woke up again two weeks had passed.

Even now she could feel her mind struggling with the memory of the echo Jack had known her as, ‘Calla’. They had been time agents together, it seemed, until she had been shot – taking a bullet for Jack. She could remember it so clearly, feel the white-hot pain lance through her chest, the brief sensation of damp against her skin as her clothes had become soaked in her own blood. _No, no that’s not me_. She fought against the memories. _She’s not me. I’m not dead. It’s not me_.

She felt the slightest, barest touch to her hand, a whisper against the knuckles of her clenched fist. There was a whisper in her mind, a presence that helped her push the memories of Calla back down and where they belonged on the edge of her subconscious. _She was Clara, not Calla, and she was alive. She didn’t get shot. She was okay._

Clara opened her eyes and released a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding, her burning lungs thanking her. It didn’t appear she had them shut for long, only a moment or two when to her it had felt like hours. She felt a brush against her knuckles again and looked down to find the Doctor stood just close enough to touch her clenched hand without anyone seeing the subtle movement, odd considering his usual aversion to touch she thought. She peered up curiously to find he was looking down at her, his expression impassive, a single eyebrow raised was all he needed to ask if she was alright.

She didn’t get any chance to tell him that she was okay (if you didn’t count the beginnings of a throbbing headache of course) before Jack, oblivious to what had just occurred in those few seconds, interrupted. His cheeky grin was back and he wiggled his eyebrows as he muttered “well, I certainly hope you remember something of our last meeting, I mean, it was _very_ memorable…”

The ex-time agent reached out again, she suspected he planned to kiss her hand like he had Madame Vastra’s earlier, and again she pulled away out of his reach. Jack’s hand barely got within a few inches of her before long fingers closed around his wrist.

Jack raised his warm blue eyes and met the Doctor’s icy ones. “I think Clara has made it quite clear that she’d like you to respect her space, Jack.”

Jack’s brow furrowed, clearly confused about what was going on, but opened his mouth to argue anyway.

“My dear Doctor, I’m certain he meant no harm, so I would appreciate it very much if you could refrain from accosting my clients” Madame Vasta’s voice sounded calm, but cut through the tension between the two men like a hot knife. Clara shot the detective a relived glance, knowing harsh words had been avoided, but didn’t truly relax until another moment had passed and the Doctor finally released his hold on Jack’s wrist, looking away from him dismissively.

“My apologies, Madame” the Doctor addressed Vastra only, refusing to apologise to Jack.

Jack didn’t seem to notice, rubbing his wrist as he stared at the Doctor, peering closely with a puzzled frown. “Doctor?”

The Doctor looked at him, raising an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“As in, ‘the Doctor’?” Jack asked, a small hint of frustration mixing with his disbelief “ _My_ Doctor?”

“You’re Doctor?” the Doctor repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief “I didn’t recall you being so sentimental Captain, nor do I remember ever being called ‘yours’.”

“You know one another?” Vastra asked, though it sounded more like a statement, her tone clearly wondering why the Doctor had not mentioned something earlier, yet not sounding surprised that he hadn’t.

“The Captain here used to be a time agent” the Doctor informed Vastra shortly “things happened, few adventures later, now he’s immortal. Still, a wonder how exactly he has ended up here, but I expect it has something to do with a certain vortex manipulator that seemed to pass in and out of his possession quite frequently.”

“It is you-!” Jack half-shouted, expression practically gleeful as his arms raised again – though this time he was clearly intent on hugging the Doctor, still Clara had backed off a good distance to avoid getting hit with those wild arms.

The Doctor’s expression twisted into something like repulsion as he moved quickly away from Jack’s reach, hissing like an angry cat “Yes, it’s me, do keep up. And put your arms down, before you take someone’s eye out! Clara, tell him!”

Clara rolled her eyes, but was glad to find they had fallen back into their usual role of the Doctor being mildly insulting and her translating. She glanced at Jack “he doesn’t do hugs.”

“No hugs? I can work with that, _plenty_ of ways to greet someone without hugging” Jack wiggled his eyebrows, eyeing the Doctor (who's eyes widened, making him look like a mildly disturbed owl, as he edged further behind Vastra’s chair to keep it between himself and Jack) before he turned back to Clara “and what about you, no hugs either?”

“No hugs” Clara shook her head slowly, biting her lip “I’m not… was it Calla? I’m not her. My names Clara. Calla was just an echo.”

“An echo?” Jack queried.

“The Great Intelligence once attempted to erase the Doctor by destroying his time stream” Madame Vastra explained to Jack when she saw Clara struggling to find the words to answer Jack’s question “Miss Clara sacrificed herself to save him, jumping into the Doctor’s time stream and – essentially – ripping herself apart into these echo’s. It is likely Captain, if you recognise Miss Clara, that you met one of these echoes.”

“Every time my life was threatened, an echo of Clara sacrificed herself to save me” the Doctor continued the explanation, voice hollow as he caught Clara’s eye and looked away quickly, a part of him still felt shame that she had chosen to suffer such a fate for him. Instead, his eyes sought Jacks, staring hard as he asked “she died for you, didn’t she Jack? Before you were immortal? She did that because one day you’d save my life, keeping my timeline intact.”

Jack looked at Clara again, this time his expression unreadable “do you… do you remember-?”

“It comes and goes” Clara shrugged, wincing a little when her injured shoulder moved “sometimes it’s just dreams, sometimes I remember everything, mostly I try not to think about it.”

Jack said nothing, but his odd expression hadn’t changed, staring at Clara with a newfound curiosity – the Doctor imagined that for Jack, the man who had (and will) died a thousand deaths she probably presented a unique kinship to him. The time lord found himself unsettled by the idea, drawing Jack’s attention back onto himself by clearing his throat and asking “now Jack – why don’t you explain why you’re here without all your poor attempt at incognito? Clara, fetch Strax if you please.”

**~ O ~**

By the time Jack had finished explaining the stolen technology he was trying to track down to Madame Vastra and the Doctor, Jenny was calling them all to supper, and Strax was talking Clara’s ear off over the small bit of tech Jack had handed over to him that might be useful in tracking down the thieves.

Clara had offered to help Strax after the Doctor suggested it, without any real idea if she’d be at all useful – and a small amount of fear that he might manage to turn the device into a weapon of some kind. True that ever since she had been sucked into the WIFI she was more tech-savvy than the average high school English teacher, she hadn’t really thought those skills would be transferable with alien tech. Surprisingly she was wrong, and she must have impressed Strax too considering he had at one point said ‘perhaps I was wrong, boy, your existence is not quite a waste’ which was probably the closest he’d ever come to a compliment. By the time Jenny told them supper was ready, their tracking device was all but ready to go.

Jack stayed for dinner, taking the seat opposite Clara at the long table in Madame Vastra’s dining room, while the Doctor took the one beside her.

“Pardon my asking, but what exactly is this weapon your trying to track down?” Jenny asked, having missed Jack’s earlier explanations.

“They’re canisters of experimental Nanogenes - they’re normally used to heal. Little subatomic robots that can go in and fix you on a molecular level and all that, fast workers and brilliant for battle wounds in the middle of a war, right?”

“Right?” Jenny nodded, not understanding why they would be classed as a weapon.

“Now imagine you can dose up a few soldiers with these babies, cure their ills and all that, but make them super compliant. Like, take away any semblance of free will these soldiers may have had to question orders kind of compliant” Jack’s expression darkened.

“Why would they do that?” Jenny was aghast.

“The Bove are a war race” Jack shrugged “I can’t recall a time they weren’t at war, but I can’t imagine everyone agrees with it. Guess they need a way to make those guys that might not agree more, well, agreeable.”

“Kind of like the Sontarans then?” Jenny asked, nodding towards Strax. Strax had been fiddling with a part of their tracker, taking occasional bites of his meal, but otherwise ignoring the conversation all together while he focused – but looked up, mildly confused, when Jenny said his name.

“Kinda” Jack grinned and winked at Jenny “but – unfortunately – the Bove are a bit brighter.”

“So how did you get involved with all this Jack?” Clara asked curiously, not sure if he’d already been asked by Vastra and the Doctor. She guessed he hadn’t – since both the Doctor and Vastra glanced up suddenly, and Jack faltered under their looks.

“Right place, right time” he answered evasively, stuffing a potato in his mouth.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes “not playing with timelines again are you Jack?”

“Of course not” Jack shook his head firmly “just… cutting the head off a snake before it can come back and bite the twenty-first century.”

There was a pause after this, until the Doctor demanded “Explain.”

Jack glared at the Doctor, clearly not appreciating the order, but explained “if we don’t track down the stolen canisters, one of them is going to end up in UNIT’s Black Archives, where a _disgruntled employee_ is going to discover what the damn thing does and use it against UNIT, taking over the Black Archives and using its content to overthrow British Parliament, monarchy, country and attempt to re-establish the British Empire… naturally, the rest of the world _wasn’t_ thrilled.”

“So… you’re basically attempting to prevent world war three from even starting?” Clara summarised slowly.

“In a few words, yes” Jack shrugged “preventing the mess seemed a far sight better than trying to clean it up again after.”

“Hardly a prevention, more a pause on the inevitable” the Doctor muttered, “unpleasant as it is, ’World war three’ as you call it is almost an unavoidable consequence – at some point, something is going to become so unfixable you’ll all just start killing each other again, whether the cause seems just or not.”

Jack paused, spoon mid-way to his mouth to stare at the Doctor. “So you’re saying there’s, what, no point to preventing it because word war three is going to happen anyway?”

“Well-“ the Doctor began, then winced when he felt Clara kick his leg under the table, giving her an irritated look before he turned back to Jack and amended what he’d begun to say “Ah -not exactly. As it goes, preventing the overthrowing of a country and brainwashing via alien war tech is a decent reason to at least try prevent it. What I mean is that you may have prevented _this_ reason for war, but soon enough another ridiculous reason will crawl out of the woodwork. We can keep trying to prevent them, but there will always be someone willing to start a war for their cause, and in the end – as I said – it will be inevitable.”

“Come now Doctor,” Madame Vastra spoke up from the head of the table “humans are not so hopeless, as you yourself showed me.”

“Not all” the Doctor agreed slowly “but sometimes the good simply doesn’t outweigh the bad – or they arrive too late, or fail to react quickly enough. I never meant to imply humans themselves are a lost cause, plenty of species go to war, only that the war Jack is preventing will – sooner or later - inevitably happen for some reason or another.”

Across the table from them, Jack was still scowling at the Doctor, his mean forgotten. Vastra was taking a deep drink from her glass, possibly so she didn’t have to respond to what the Doctor had said, while Jenny similarly stuffed a potato in her mouth quickly, and Strax was still ignoring everyone in favour of the device he was fiddling with.

“I don’t remember you talking quite so hopelessly” Jack finally said, shaking his head.

“I don’t think he means to sound so- uh – _pessimistic_ ” Clara interrupted quickly, before the Doctor could respond and drawing both men’s frowns to herself “he’s _not_ saying that what you’re doing Jack isn’t a good thing, just that if you go back to the twenty-first century – or even the twenty-second or twenty-third - and find someone else has found another reason to start the war, he wouldn’t be surprised. I get what he means – it’s not cutting the head off the snake because it’s not a snake, it’s a hydra. You cut off one head, two more grow back.”

“Poetic, as expected from an English teacher I suppose, Clara” the Doctor grumbled as he looked away, “I suppose it is easier to think of them as monsters from myth rather than the worst humanity has to offer though. I said what I meant, and Jack knows it. There will always be someone out there to start the war, and one day neither he nor I will be able to stop it.”

Jack chewed on that information for a moment, still frowning. “Maybe,” he said eventually, picking up his spoon again “but personally, I’d prefer to have a little more faith in the good guys.”

The Doctor opposite him snorted, and Clara kicked him again.

**~ O ~**

After dinner, the Doctor wanted to check on the tracker Strax and Clara had built. She wanted to be there when he looked over their handiwork, not too proud to admit that she was rather proud of what they had accomplished, and had only been mildly offended when he immediately set about adding his own improvements. The Doctor must have been learning, he pacified her irritation fairly quickly by praising her work with only one or two backhanded compliments sprinkled in.

Jack, it turned out, was unable to sit still and wait for the tracker to be completed. He was eager to catch his man, perhaps more so now after the tense dinner conversation, so Vastra and Jenny accompanied him into the city to see if they could pick up any kind of trail.

Clara half wished she could have gone with them, feeling a little bored while the Doctor tinkered with the tracker. She had – at the Doctor’s reminder – done a few exercises to work out her injured shoulder, and was not trying to distract herself with a book from the shelves. She couldn’t focus on the pages though, a restless urge to do something still lingering in the pit of her stomach, frustrated she couldn’t do more to help.

“Why do you keep doing that?” the Doctor asked suddenly, making Clara jump in her seat as she looked over to find him watching her.

“Doing what?”

“You know – the big breath thing” he waved his hand towards his own chest, frowning “are you having trouble breathing? Considering the era and the olfactory senses of humans I’d think deep breaths would be the last thing you’d want to do.”

Clara almost laughed “true, it doesn’t exactly smell like roses.”

“You might think your era has it all with your internal plumbing and underground sewers, but give a few hundred years and the human race takes another turn into something a bit worse than this, we’ll see how much you like that smell” the Doctor mumbled, focusing his attention on two wires he was trying to twist together “are you tired? Is that why the breathing? Maybe you should go to bed. You’re still healing after all.”

“It’s called a ‘sigh’” Clara told him, sighing ironically for demonstration – which only earned her a glare and an arch of one of those attack eyebrows. “Pretty sure you knew that, since you do it a lot yourself. You know, when you’re sad. Or frustrated… or, yes, when you’re tired.”

The Doctor was buzzing the sonic screwdriver at the two wires and didn’t appear to be listening to her, biting his tongue as he tried to focus on whatever it was he was doing. After a second or two he put the screwdriver away, nodding at the wires, and looked up at her “so which is it?”

“What?”

“Which is it? Are you sad, frustrated, or tried?”

“Um-“she hadn’t expected him to ask “- I guess all three? I just wish I could help some more.”

“Clara,” he said her name gently, standing and walking towards her “you’ve done more than enough, but you’re still hurt. I’d hate to risk anything else happening to you… duty of care and all. I’m sure that in a few hours I can have this up and running, thanks to you… why don’t you head upstairs and rest?”

For a moment Clara was frozen in her seat while the Doctor stood in front of her, his head tilted to the side and watching her intently. She wasn’t quite sure what had shocked her more, his admission that he didn’t want to risk her, or the gentle affectionate tone he’d used while he spoke.

“What about you?” she asked, and immediately blushed when she realised how it might sound “uh- I mean, aren’t you tired? I don’t mind keeping you company until you finish?”

The Doctor chuckled “I had a brief nap when Jack was wittering on uselessly earlier, I don’t need any more than that quite yet. Go to bed Clara.”

She half thought about staying, but she’d be lying if she said her eyelids weren’t drooping, her muscles heavy. Glancing towards the doorway though, seeing the darkened hallways and stairs, she hesitated, suppressing a shudder that threatened to shake her body.

The Doctor noticed anyway, eyeing her warily. “Clara? Is something wrong?”

“What? No!” she denied, forcing herself to take a step towards the dark doorway, but resolutely not looking at him. “It’s fine. _I’m fine_. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yes” he watched her go distractedly, certain he’d missed something, but she was stalking away quickly and he didn’t have a chance to say much more than “Goodnight” before she had disappeared through the doorway.

Clara felt silly, ignoring the feeling of ice slipping down her spine as she walked through the hall. It was just dark, what was so scary about that? She’d been in much darker places anyway, moonlight still streamed through the windows here. He’d probably think she was stupid if she told him why she’d hesitated, she could hear him now calling her a ‘pudding brain’ or something like that. That was probably why she hadn't told him about the nightmares either. He didn’t need to know she spent more time in her bed afraid to fall asleep than actually resting. He didn’t need to know she kept the lights on now, because if she didn’t… if she didn’t, she _remembered_ …

She didn’t want to remember.

Clara almost screamed when a door was thrown open to her right, managing to swallow the sound into little more than a squeak when she saw it was just Jack. He heard her nevertheless, grim expression brightening a little as his attention fixed on her.

“No luck?” Clara asked quickly as he approached.

“No” Jack shook his head dourly “did I scare you? Sorry.”

“It's fine, I was just heading up to bed, didn’t know you had come back already.”

“Bed, huh?” Jack grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

Clara snickered “you are incorrigible.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying” he fell into step beside her on the stairs, but his salacious grin faded into something more genuine “especially if I only knew your echo… hard not to be curious what the real girl would be like after just her echo made such an impression.”

“Afraid you’ll just have to imagine, but something tells me you’re good at that.”

“Maybe” he smirked, “but if you tell me I don’t have a shot I’ll believe you, I learned that lesson long ago.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t sway the Doctors girls,” Jack told her honestly, shrugging.

“The Doctors-? I’m not one of _'his girls’_ , what century are you from?”

“Fifty-first” he answered without missing a beat, smirking “so you and the Doc-?”

“-we’re just friends!”

“That’s how it always is, till you all break _rule one_ ” Jack shrugged “I get it, how could you not fall in love with him? He’s the Doctor. In some ways, the heartbreak is worth it…”

“Sounds like you might’ve broken rule one yourself a bit Jack” Clara observed.

“Maybe” he tilted his head “when he was a different man.”

Clara frowned “he’s still the same man Jack, even if his face has changed.”

Jack met her eyes “is he?”

“Yes!” she answered firmly, thinking for a moment before adding “how old was he the last time you saw him, Jack?”

He scratched his chin thoughtfully “about nine hundred or so?”

“He’s over two thousand now… and he’s been through a lot” Clara bit her lip, knowing the Doctor would probably hate it if he knew she revealed so much to Jack. “You met him after the time war, right?”

Jack nodded.

“Gallifrey falls no more” she whispered it, like she was afraid someone was listening, and watched Jack’s expression turn from a frown to realisation.

“He found-?”

“-no. But it’s out there, he has _hope_ now, he hasn’t had that for so long… he’s lost family, friends, lovers. He sacrificed himself to fight a war _alone_ for four-hundred-years and when he was ready to die they gifted him a whole new set of regenerations.” Clara glanced back down the stairs, half expected to find the time lord there in the dark “I know he’s a bit… rough around the edges this time around, but be patient with him. He just needs some guidance now and then.”

“Guidance huh?” Jack raised an eyebrow “is that how you-?” he waved to her injuries.

“ _No_!” Clara protested loudly, feeling her ire raise at the insinuation.

“Sorry” Jack didn’t sound very apologetic “but it wouldn’t be the first time someone got hurt for the Doctor’s sake.”

“Really, you’re going to preach that at me, of all people?” her tone was flat, but it seemed to work to remind him of what he had been told about her echo’s. “But seriously, no, I didn’t get hurt because of him… this was just… plain old humans being terrible to each other.”

Jack wrinkled his nose “so you agree with what he said at dinner, that there’s always a bad guy out there and not enough of us good guys to stop them?”

“Not quite what he said, and definably not the same level” Clara shook her head “but I can get where he’s coming from. The man who did this to me thought I was weaker than him, thought he could _take_ what he wanted when I said _no_. There’s too many out there like him, so the idea that there are just as many who would start a war to take what they want isn’t too farfetched for me to imagine. But there’s always going to be good guys like us Jack, we just can’t blame ourselves if we can’t save everyone.”

Jack looked torn, but didn’t have a response ready before Clara turned away from him as they stopped outside the bedrooms. Before she could shut the door to the spare room Vastra allowed her to use on visits however, she heard Jack call out.

“Clara!” he was scowling “the man who attacked you-?”

“He’s been arrested.”

“Who-?”

“Jack” Clara raised an eyebrow “I won’t give the Doctor his name because I know exactly what he’d do if he found him, why would I tell you?”

“Deniability” Jack proclaimed “you could give me his name, likely knowing I’d share the information with the Doc, but able to deny it all.”

“Goodnight Jack” she chuckled.

“Offer still stands if you ever change your mind” he called back suggestively – and she wasn’t quite sure what offer he meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmylawd this chapter turned out a bit longer than I expected haha. But yeah, Captain Jack is my new addition because I really wish Jack had gotten to meet 12! Grumpy Doctor and Flirting Jack is just something I wish I could have seen. 
> 
> So yes, Chapter three. Stolen alien tech, threats of world war three, the Doctor being a little pessimistic in his world view, and Clara still suffering some trauma.


End file.
